


and I answered her: rejoice, go and remember me

by starraya



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, break-up sex?, ha, inspired by the thirst in Bernie’s voice when she says “that’s a shame”, is that even a thing??, title from sappho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 19:02:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16980057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starraya/pseuds/starraya
Summary: “I’m making you late for your plane.” Serena mumbles into Bernie’s coat, before drawing back and dabbing her eyes with her fingers.“Just a hotel reservation booking for a single room.” Bernie’s eyes flicker down to Serena’s lips. The taste of shiraz, she thinks, and the taste of Serena. One last time.





	and I answered her: rejoice, go and remember me

It’s past midnight when Bernie creeps back on to AAU, her stomach churning. She doesn’t know what she feels - relief? disappointment? - when she sees all the blinds closed in the office. Empty, she assumes. No Serena. Serena’s probably still at the wedding reception, probably very drunk, but it won’t be Bernie guiding a clumsy, laughing, teary, and extremely loud Serena Campbell out of Albies and into a taxi and it won’t be Bernie’s shoulder that Serena leans her head on, closing her eyes just for a second and dozing off. Bernie won’t coax her gently awake with “darling” or walk her up the aisle to her house and into the hallway where Bernie won’t help her out of her coat or witness a very drunk, very sleepy Serena turn into a somehow less drunk, but very horny Serena.

Bernie swallows, hard and puts her key - she still has it, even after all those months, even though it’s not even rightfully hers - into the door of Serena’s office and pushes.

“Serena? What are you doing?”

Dressed in the silver sparkly jumpsuit the dry cleaners had mistakenly sent her earlier, Serena jumps. “What are you doing?” The shock in Serena’s eyes fades to something else - hope? “Why - why are you back?”

“I left my bag.”

“Oh.” Serena feels foolish. What would have happened if Bernie had sought her instead to tell her that she regretted their break up? Other than them telling each other how much they loved each other and coming again to the same conclusion. They’re not the right sort of animal. Tears start to fill Serena’s eyes.

“Sorry,” Bernie says, “I should have thought -“

“It’s okay.”

Bernie picks up her bag, but her feet won’t lead her to the door. Instead, she sits down on the couch. “What happened?

The million dollar question, Serena thinks, before sitting down on the couch too.

Bernie chuckles. “Did you decide, fourth glass in, that you were going to audition for Mamma Mia after all?”

Serena laughs. “No, no. It’s - it’s silly. I was going to take a picture. I was going to send it you. Something to remember me by.” She twists the pendant of her necklace round. “To remind you . . . to remind you that in a weeks time when you’ve got your arms around another woman that . . . it’s silly.”

“A week?” Bernie smirks. “Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe.” Serena starts with a smile, but bursts into tears. “I’m sorry, I just - I never expected to miss you this much already.”

“I’m never going to forget you Serena, it’s impossible, you changed my life, you changed me so much and whoever comes next, I know they won’t ever be able to compare to you.”

“You’re don’t have to be nice to me-“

“I’m being truthful.”

Serena sobs harder. “I love you. So much.”

Bernie pulls Serena into a hug. The sparkles of the dress are rough against her hands.

“I’m making you late for your plane.” Serena mumbles into Bernie’s coat, before drawing back and dabbing her eyes with her fingers.

“Just a hotel reservation booking for a single room.” Bernie’s eyes flicker down to Serena’s lips. The taste of shiraz, she thinks, and the taste of Serena. One last time.

“Bernie?” Serena’s voice is low and she doesn’t know if it’s a warning or an invitation.

“There was one thing . . . where we always fitted perfectly.”

Bernie closes her eyes. Their lips connect. Silk on silk. Serena’s hands entwine in Bernie’s hair and Bernie hands run down Serena’s back, against the jagged, itchy sparkles - kiss melts into kiss into kiss - and the rough material disappears, gets discarded, and smooth, hot flesh fills Bernie’s hands.

Fuck medicine. Fuck the frontline. This is what she was made to do, and as her body glides over Serena’s, as her fingers slide into Serena’s wet heat, she whispers into Serena’s neck:

“Nothing will ever compare to this.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is likely a pile of crap written during a super hyper episode but idk???


End file.
